Clueless
by Rue McCrae
Summary: Oliver Wood's got no time for a skinny tomboy of a fourth year whose daredevil attitude and love for pranks most usually ends up in detention. So how can such a short, unfeminine girl play Quidditch so well? KBOW  eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_Clueless_

_Summary:_ Oliver Wood's got no time for a skinny tomboy of a fourth year whose daredevil attitude and love for pranks most usually ends up in detention. So how can such a short, unfeminine girl play Quidditch so well? KBOW - eventually. A trip through Hogwarts and beyond...

_Chapter One_

"Fred, it's too easy. It's just not a challenge, mate." Fred rubbed his nose reflectively, nodding slowly in agreement to his twin's comment. They were sitting out under the trees in the south part of the grounds, enjoying being outside in late spring. After charming the still-moist ground to resemble a dry blanket, the trio had tumbled onto it to think about what could be done for a certain over-zealous Quidditch captain. After winning the Quidditch cup two years running, Oliver Wood had made certain that his team knew it was going to happen again. So had begun a gruelling practice regime that happened three times a week _just after dawn._

"I can't take it anymore!" Katie gasped, though whether she was referring to their captain's energy or the fact that George had charmed a thin twig to tickle her in the ribs was not clear. The twins looked at their tiny friend fondly. Messy silvery-blond hair, green eyes, and of a diminutive height, Katie Bell resembled an imp - an apt name for her character, which was cheeky, unrefined, and definitely _not _ladylike. She was sprawled on the ground with a piece of parchment in front of her, and an inky quill in one hand - which was, incidentally, more blue than flesh-coloured. Fred tutted and removed the quill from her grasp.

"Blue hands are _so _last year, darling," George said in mock dismay, scourgifying her hands with a quick tap of his wand. Fred whacked his head, frowning '_what in Merlin's name was that about_?' at him. Katie merely admired his work before his tone registered.

"Ge-orge," she whined. "I'm a girl, you're not supposed to tell _me _what's up to date." She nibbled her lip pensively. "Come to think of it, I haven't got a clue about clothes."

"And that," continued Fred sagely, "is why we leave it up to Alicia to be the girl." - "And Angie," he amended, when the pair joined them on the charmed ground, with Angelina directing a dark look at the red-haired twin.

"You talk too much, George," she snapped. George made an indignant noise as he received Alicia into his lap, saying around her body,

"He's not George, I am! Is Katie really the only one who can tell us apart?" He assumed a wounded expression, which didn't last for long with Alicia's assurance that she could too. He smirked at Angie as Katie interpolated,

"Your mum doesn't forget either, y'know!"

"Not much of a comfort, imp." She grinned at their nickname for her, and snatched the plans out of Fred's hands, scanning them quickly.

"This is a time where I wish you hadn't given the Map to Harry, Fred. I really can't remember where that passage starts - y'know, the one that leads to the bookcase in the far left hand corner of the library." She stared at the parchment, biting her ragged thumbnail. Angie looked confused.

"Doesn't it begin behind the -?" she began, but Fred clamped a firm hand over her mouth.

"Nothing personal, Ange," he said hurriedly as he saw her glare at him, "but we want her to remember. Right, Forge?"

"Right, Gred," his twin agreed. They all waited in silence as Katie gazed unseeing into the distance, worrying at her lip. It wasn't too long before her face lit up and her eyes began to gleam.

"Behind that Knight with the House of Faurmod's emblem engraved on his wrist, fourth floor," she said delightedly. "You have to turn the screw on the visor after saying the password."

"Which is?" George prompted, a grin on his face. She gave him a dirty look.

"Never you mind, young pup," she said primly, but there was an answering smile in her own eyes. "The password for the prefects' bathroom," she whispered in Angie's ear. "They've been trying to weasel it out of me ever since Percy slipped it to me accidentally." Her friend's lips quirked in amusement.

"Never was the brightest spark in the fireplace, that boy," she murmured back.

"I'm surprised at you, Ange," Katie said, her eyes round. Then snorted. "I'm simply oozing charm, that's all."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Alicia replied comfortingly, reaching over to pat Katie's arm. She shared a long-suffering look with the grinning Angie opposite her, and then a shadow fell upon the group, blocking out the sun. Katie's hands were quick (but not sly) in crumpling the plans laid on the ground and sitting on them. She grinned up at the Quidditch captain standing before them, 'oozing charm'. Oliver Wood smirked.

"If that's your innocent look, Bell, I now fully expect to be pranked in the next week or so."

_Darn._

Katie didn't even bother glancing at the others.

"Don't know what you're talking about, mate." His sceptical glare told her that she would have to do better than that. Her urgently questing thoughts suddenly hit upon a _brilliant _excuse. She gave a put-out look - a mixture of upset, bewildered, and slightly irritated which she rather proudly thought was worthy of the twins. _I have been spending __**way **__too much time with those two..._

Biting her lip, Katie caught her captain's gaze. "If you really want to know, Wood, I guess I'll have to tell you." She looked awkward. "It's your birthday next week, and we were kind of - casting around for ideas..." The delicate pink that suddenly stained Oliver's cheeks was an absolutely delicious contrast to the smooth, cool tone of his voice.

"Oh?" He seemed to be pondering. "I'll see you all at the pitch tomorrow evening - 7:00pm sharp."

"Bye Oliver," they all chorused, and as soon as his tall figure had vanished from view, Katie's small person was battered with comments.

"Ka-tie! Now I have to buy him a present!" a voice whined - Alicia.

"Yeah, _and _we'll have to do something to celebrate!" This was Angelina. However, these rather negative outlooks on her ingenious excuse were far outweighed by Fred and George's ecstasy.

"D'you know what, George? I reckon she's finally being influenced by our unimaginable skills."

"You may be right, Fred. _Brilliant, _Kates, absolutely _brilliant. _Distracted his attention from the fact that he wanted a practice right now, even though it's Saturday, got us an evening practice instead of a crack-of-dawn torture session tomorrow, made sure he won't be suspecting a prank for _at least _a month, and -"

" - gave us an excuse to throw a birthday bash in practice next Friday, rather than trying out all those extremely complex plays which are an absolute pain in the -"

"_Fred_," Angelina interrupted in a warning voice. Fred's mouth clamped shut quicker than Katie and Alicia were able to exchange knowing looks. _Angie's the only one who can possibly shut up Fred in mid-ramble, and I don't think it's the fact that she can beat up any of the blokes in our year that's the persuasive factor, _Katie thought, a quick glance informing her of Alicia's similar thoughts. A bell rang, interrupting the comfortable silence.

"Nearly curfew, people," George announced, reluctantly shoving his girlfriend out of his lap and standing up.

"Oh but Ge-orge!" Katie complained, as Fred held out a hand to both Angie and herself. "We still haven't finished our plans!" She was ignored, and sulked most of the way back to the castle before Fred whispered in her ear.

"Meet us two in the kitchens tonight after lights are out. We'll carry on there." Katie glanced at their other two friends, as if to ask whether they could come, but Fred's quick shake of the head confirmed that the Weasleys would be talking _serious _prank talk. _Less people in on it, the better, _Katie thought, remembering one of George's strict morals regarding pranks. A small pang of regret was quickly suppressed by the thought that there would be less people for the house elves to serve, and consequently, more _food. _Katie's green eyes gleamed as she thought of the _particular _way a house elf called Dobby had with chocolate brownies...

-ooooooo-

I know it's a short chapter, but the next will be longer - if you make my muse feel all mushy inside with reviews. Any review helps - it doesn't matter if you don't like it, because I will take reviews into account and continue to try and do better. CC, flames, fangirl gushing (yeah right, I wish...) will all contribute, I'm sure.

- First Promise


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: First off - Memories**

_The girl who steps through the smoke and the noise of Platform 9 ¾ is very short. Dwarfed by the majority of students bustling around her, she struggles valiantly with a trolley nearly as tall as she is, and a pile of luggage twice her height._

"_That one'll be in Gryffindor," a nearby Ravenclaw remarks to her friend, with the eyeroll of one who knows how foolish they can be. She notices the presence of a redhead with an inane grin plastered on his face, and hurries away, unconscious of the small bird that seems to have _magically _appeared on her curly head, and which is singing, rather loudly, an inaccurate rendition of one of the muggle songs that have become so popular._

_The twin catches sight of the pixie-like face and the short blond hair, which swings around her face in a silky waterfall that only enhances the impression. Her mouth is open in a wide grin, but she's hiding it now that the Ravenclaw is looking round for the source of that song. A busy student catches her robes as he strides past, too busy to realise that she's stumbled now, and that the train is getting ready to leave._

"'_Ere, Forge, get your backside over here! There's a lady that requires our assistance!"_

_He gallantly assumes the role of her Knight-in-shining-armour, levitating her birdcage and a suitcase (only a _little_ shakily) off of the trolley. His brother now appears on her other side, but he doesn't bother to levitate the trunks – merely pushes them haphazardly off the metal trolley and grabs one in each gangly arm. He grunts and lifts them, gesturing for her to get on the train._

"_Why is it that girls _always _bring so much damn luggage with them?" he grumbles, and then seems to notice the bird which she has relieved from Fred's rather questionable levitation charm. "Falcon?"_

"_Peregrine," she nods._

"_Bit of a weird name. Why not something short, like Pig?" He smiles wickedly. "Always wanted to call a bird that." The train is lost in a haze of blue smoke, and the first year seems to realise that the shrill whistle piercing the air is a signal that it's about to leave._

"_Yeah, better not hang about," his twin confirms, uncannily reading her thoughts. "Here, take this case, will you? What's your name?"_

"_Katie." She gives up with the birdcage and discards it, feeling only a slight twinge of guilt because her aunt gave her the wretched thing. Mel's sat on her shoulder, and she barely feels the prick of his talons through her thick jumper and robes. She makes a silent note about putting on the shoulder pad on the train at some point. _

_She feels a little lost. The boys (who look about second-year) have disappeared through the blue smoke, and she doesn't know where to go. Memories of Leanne telling her about Hagrid surface, but even he seems to have gotten on the train now._

_Katie feels a vicelike grip on her shoulder (not the one that Mel is sitting on, thankfully). She meets two pairs of very blue eyes._

_"Aren't you coming, then?"_

* * *

_Present Day_

_**Katie's POV**_

Two pairs of hands descended on me from out of the cold, grey dawn. They shook me mercilessly, accompanied by voices I could only liken to vultures faced with the particularly juicy remains of a wildebeest.

"_Katie!_" they hissed, and the hands clawed at my shoulders again. I muttered; made some sort of incoherent noise that translated as _BACK OFF! _and promptly felt, with satisfaction, the punishing wakefulness recede. Muffled voices, distorted through a dozy haze, conversed in quiet tones. I snuggled deeper into the warmth of my bed, not caring about the noise as long as I wasn't being shaken anymore.

The bedclothes were ripped mercilessly off my curled up form. I shivered with the unexpected cold, cracking my eyes open to glare at my tormentors.

"Alicia and Angelina! You're fifth years. Why are you in my room?" I asked, bewildered.

"Quidditch practice," Alicia informed me gleefully. I peered at the Muggle alarm clock Leanne had perched precariously on her bedside table. The glowing digits taunted me.

3:15am.

The sun wasn't even up yet. "You two," I growled, shivering from the cold, "are about to experience my wrath." Alicia took one look at my tiny form, my feet encased in particularly lumpy socks (compliments of our house elf at home), shivering pitifully in the middle of the huge four poster, and burst into raucous laughter. Angelina soon joined her. Leanne woke up, glared at the two and yelled,

"PIPE IT DOWN! _Some of us are trying to sleep here!_" They subsided a little. Leanne could have been a darn good beater if we hadn't already had Fred and George.

I sighed. "Why don't you listen to me like that?" I asked pathetically.

"Because you're not _truly _angry, imp. It's only when you're furious that there's a need to run away from you." The voice emanated from the doorway, and sounded decisively twinnish.

I shrieked, snagging the bedclothes forcefully from Alicia's slack hands and burying my body into the mattress. "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE EITHER!" I yelled from beneath the covers. Fred made his way over to my bed and twitched the blanket so all I could see were a pair of irritatingly cheerful blue eyes.

"We're your best mates, George and me!" he said, sounding hurt.

"HUMBUG!" I cried, shutting my eyes again. "No one who wakes me up before dawn in spring can call themselves my best friends!" I sighed, whining: "No one respects me around here."

"You were already awake when we got here," George pointed out, gesturing wildly with his broom. "It's _them _you should be hating. We're simply your partners-in-crime." His comment was well calculated, and his smirk as I sat bolt upright in bed told me that he knew it. Smooth prat. However, I couldn't help but love the anticipation rolling in my gut.

"Alright," I announced, and Fred patted his brother on the back. _Good work_, he seemed to be saying. They retreated to the doorway as I leapt for the robes tumbled so messily on the chair near my bed.

"You know," commented Angie thoughtfully, "it was always my guess that you are supposed to hang your robes up when you aren't using them." A white smile crinkled her beautiful face as the twins and I turned to her in stunned shock. _She does have a point though, _my inner voice prompted as my eyes glanced guiltily at my Quidditch robes, bespattered with mud, creased from use, and grass stained.

"_Scourgify_," I muttered in their general direction, choosing to ignore Angie's smug look. "Everybody out so's I can change," I ordered a moment later, and this time no one argued. "I have a certain Quidditch captain to liquefy." Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina all stopped at that.

"No one's doing any liquefying today, little imp," George said carefully. "That's definitely _not _in the plan. The prank's tomorrow, and we have a little special _harmless _occasion for our dear captain at practice today. _Harmless_," he reiterated. "Except to his pride."

Alicia nodded, agreeing with her boyfriend. "We don't want you to get hurt, Katie," she said, though the look she shot George clearly said _what 'little special harmless occasion'? Why haven't __**I**__ been told?_

"HURT?" I yelled, my tones piercing the air. "You can't _possibly _be enough of an idiot to think that I'm afraid of Wood, can you?" Angelina sent me a reproving, unbelieving stare, which was in unison with the other looks sent my way. "What?" I queried, exasperated.

"Totally clueless," Fred muttered. His brother agreed with him. Angelina took the role of telling the little girl (moi) what she hasn't quite realised yet. Which, incidentally, is always really irritating.

"Haven't you noticed that Oliver's got about half the population following him around like hapless puppies?" she asked me tentatively.

"Why would anyone want to do _that_?"

"The – the female side of Hogwarts, you daft girl!"

I was still totally incomprehensive of what they were trying to imply. I said as much.

"I don't get it."

"_Now _who's being the idiot?" Alicia said smugly. I ignored her, silently pleading the twins to help me, but they had a cornered look I rarely ever saw except when they were faced with an angry Molly Weasley.

"It's girl stuff, imp," George said hurriedly, and turned to Alicia for help.

"Katie," Alicia began slowly, with the air of one who is laden with the task of explaining something difficult to a small child. "Katie, haven't you ever noticed that Oliver Tobias Wood is good looking?" As I continued to look at her blankly, she made a frustrated noise.

"Gorgeous?" Fred supplied, still looking unsure, but game to join in and help.

"I was thinkin' more along the lines of way up there with regulation hotties, Gred," George said. Fred gave him a weird look. "I think it's an American expression," he explained with a shrug. "Heard about it from those movies Dad's always in ecstatics over."

"Moo-vees?" I asked. My mind was refusing to work. "What're they?" Angelina shot George a glare.

"That's not important right now."

"Oh, right." I tugged at the tousled strands atop my head. My face lit up, and something clicked. "Sorry, we were talking about how Oliver Wood's hot and how his fan club might be baying after my blood like a pack of werewolves if I so much as harmed a hair on his bonny wee head. ¿_Eso verdad, mis capitanes?_"

"Got that one reet."

"Got it in one, lass."

"Ye've got a guid sortae noggin on that neck o' yourn, impie."

"ENOUGH WITH THE PAINFUL SCOTTISH ACCENTS!" I yelled. "I need to get ready, or Wood will have our backsides!"

"You saying you don't like our dear captain's accent?" Fred gasped as he was forcefully shoved through the door, along with the others.

"I'm saying that _any_ accent belonging to _anyone_ at half-past-three in the morning merits its owner worthy of execution by beheading," I concluded, and with a tired grunt of exertion clicked the door closed behind them. I didn't get back to my robes in time to miss Fred's satisfied comment.

"The captain isn't going to know what's hit him."

_Indeed he isn't,_ I thought grimly.

* * *

"Line up," Wood barked, his cheeks stung red from the cold. Everyone was shivering, but it wouldn't be like that for long - not if our dear captain had anything to do with it. It was only half past three, after all, and late spring in Scotland is nothing like spring in the Bahamas. He soon had us executing practice drills to warm up, Harry darting around the top of the arena, looking a little apprehensive, and Fred and George batting a bludger between them just a little lower down.

I could understand Harry's nervous glances at the sky around him. It didn't surprise me that he had slipped his wand in his pocket, just in case. Dementors aren't terribly fun spectators for our noble sport. They tend to get in the way a little.

I jumped as Wood swooped past me, bellowing for me to catch the Quaffle and get up towards the goalposts. I caught the dark red-brown ball under one arm (a mite dazedly) and streaked down towards the posts, where Wood was circling almost lazily. My eyes narrowed. Today, my captain would not be able to accuse me of not giving my all. When I'm actually paying attention, and not larking around with Fred and George, I can score pretty well. Just not against - him. It's no wonder that Puddlemere United are so excited that he's graduating. He's a damn fine Keeper.

I felt the twins' eyes on my back, encouraging me. Even Alicia and Angie were finding it difficult to keep their attention confined to the exercise they were doing. I felt power coursing through my veins, filling me with eager, assured confidence. This time my dear friend was _not _going to catch the Quaffle. If I had anything to do with it, he _was _going to miss.

With my arm bent back and the wind whipping all around me, I lunged to the side as though going for the left hoop, but, in the midst of my dramatic leap off of my broom, swivelled as my hand latched onto the solid wood, and threw the Quaffle towards the right. Fred, George and I had been practising this for _weeks. _A feint never threw Oliver, and neither did simply passing it with force right towards his face, and we had known that he was almost impossible to fool. Angie and Alicia hadn't known about _this_. Neither had Wood. With both hands free, I swung back onto the broom with a feeling of ecstasy swelling up in my gut. The Quaffle had soared gracefully through the exact hoop I had aimed for.

I hadn't expected it to work. I had expected a rather bone-crunching fall, possibly, or the even more gut-wrenching thought that Oliver would manage to save it after all of _that, _but it had worked.

"Bell, LOOK OUT!" Fred roared from behind me, just as the bludger which they had completely forgotten made hard contact with the back of my head. Pain erupted in a tidal wave as blackness claimed me.

* * *

White. Why is it that whenever someone who has been wounded wakes up, the first thing they usually see is white because one or other of their friends carried them up to the hospital wing? It's just so - clichéd.

It's also the worst colour for someone who has a head-splitting migraine.

I groaned as I saw the potion gripped in Madame Pomfrey's square hands, with the top already unstoppered. Any further complaints were muffled as the tip of the bottle was shoved in my mouth, forcing me to swallow the burning liquid. It wasn't too unpleasant, if you compared it to the bone-growing stuff she keeps in her cupboards, but it had a distinctly thick, cloggy feel to it. It tasted patently like other pain-relieving potions Madame Pomfrey kept in her cupboards, but just a few levels nastier. I registered the fact that I was alone (apart from the Mediwitch) as soon as I had finished choking.

"Madame Pomfrey," I rasped, feeling the mind-numbing pain in my head begin to recede to a pulsing beat even as I spoke. "Where are the others?" She sniffed.

"I sent them back to their dormitories, dear. They couldn't stay here the entire night. They were driving me up the wall, Wood especially." She paused. "They are outside, if you really want to see them," she admitted grudgingly.

_Wood? _I stared at her dumbfounded, then realised after a moment what she was saying. I agreed eagerly, still a bit preoccupied with why _Wood,_ of all people, would have driven her up the wall. He's fairly good with authority, except when said authority interferes with Quidditch - but honestly? He's just not the rebellious type, exactly. The smooth, charming, Quidditch-obsessed, smarter-than-anything, player Scotsman type, perhaps. My thoughts were abruptly stopped as the team bundled into the ward, spewing anxious questions (the girls' part) and congratulations (the twins') that I had pulled it off.

"Sorry about the bludger, imp," George said, a little apologetically, reaching out a hand to ruffle my hair. I grabbed his hand, keeping it away from my sore head.

"Erm, remember, George? Bludger plus Katie's head equals big migraine and not-good-to-ruffle head," I informed him, still looking warily at his hand. He had the grace to look a little guilty - even if the emotion only stayed on his face for a few moments. I realised Wood was missing.

"Where's our dear Captain, Angie?" I asked.

"In the showers," she informed me sheepishly. I was gobsmacked.

"I'm far from wanting his concern, and even less his praise for that rather spectacular goal (though I do say so myself) - but why in the name of Merlin's pink _woolly _PYJAMAS isn't he up _here_? I just got hit with a bludger in the back of the head!"

"I didn't know he had pink pyj-". George's quip was muffled into silence by the withering glare sent by an irate Angie in his direction.

"George," she warned him. His smirk left her infuriated, but cheered me up a little. Good to see my friends were here. Even if that good-for-nothing Captain of mine wasn't bothered whatsoever with my well-being.

Please don't get me wrong. The only opinions I remember ever having cared for are the twins', on occasion Angie's and Alicia's, and the professor of the only subject I'm really good at - which happens to be Flitwick. Charms is something I can relate to, considering that I really like using certain spells in the pranks the twins and I pull. But Wood is different. He let me onto the team in second year, which was an impressive feat until Harry came along (not that I minded), but honestly - if his head isn't preoccupied with being a player (and I'm not just talking about Quidditch), then he's furiously scribbling in that infernal match journal of his, working at plays.

It just hit me. The prank. Supposed to be this morning. Me - incapacitated in the Hospital Wing. Twins - still alive and kicking, and more than likely wanting to exact full revenge for the crack-of-dawn torture yesterday - Friday - morning. My irritation evaporated, and pure glee set in.

"How does our dear Wood look like with a prince's silky blond locks, _mes capitaines_?" I asked, a purely impish look beginning to dawn.

"Don't know yet, Kates. If you'll remember, it's up to him to do the dirty deed." George nodded solemnly in agreement with his twin's statement. Ange and Alicia just looked confused.

"We slipped a certain form of ladies' peroxide into his shampoo and conditioner," I explained, suddenly filled with an understandable urge to head towards the common room.

"That's not particularly original," Angie said, raising an eyebrow. Fred gave a gleeful look.

"That's not the trick."

"It's not?"

"No, Alicia, it's not. It's just supposed to make him incensed enough to make a rare entry into the common room."

I was finding it difficult to concentrate. There was a pounding in my head that made my eyelids feel heavy and my neck feel sore. If I was allowed to get out of this infernal hospital wing, I wouldn't complain of it! Madame Pomfrey glided over as though she had heard my desperate plea. She looked at my cheeks, possibly flushed, pressed an expert hand to my forehead, and then felt my wrist. She raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Does your head hurt?"

"There's only a small pain nagging at the back there," I fibbed, avoiding her gaze so she wouldn't be able to tell just how much it _really_ hurt from my dilated pupils, which I was sure were making up overtime for me being unconscious for more than 36 hours. The potion I had just swallowed had relieved me for an impressive total of five minutes. The mind-numbing pain was back with a vengeance.

"Nothing a small shot of common headache potion won't handle," I added, fixing a thoughtful expression onto my face and _wishing_ that she'd turn that perceptive look elsewhere. The greying, red-cheeked Mediwitch in front of me nodded hesitantly, but said, almost severely,

"I'm afraid that that headache potion wouldn't do a jot of good, Miss Bell. The injury was induced from outside causes - not covered in a mild potion like that." She busily crossed over to a chair on the other side of the room, and I recognised my Quidditch robes (clean!) in her arms. "However, if the pain is more than you vouched for, Miss Bell, I think it might be wise for you to stay a few days longer. You would probably be able to go back on Monday morning."

_Miss my weekend, **and **come back after the results of the prank have probably been stripped (quite literally) out of Wood's hair? _I inwardly snorted. _Not likely, Madame Pomfrey. Thanks for the offer though. Real appealing._

"I'm fine," I assured her out loud, standing up as steadily as I could, and telling my protesting body that it would all be worth it to see Wood's hair. I would scream into an obliging pillow later, perhaps.

* * *

Wood strode confidently into the room, seemingly unaware of his bleached hair. I was sat at a table before the fire, playing Exploding Snap with the others, which incidentally I was losing. I nursed blistered fingers as the flurry of cards suddenly slowed, followed by Fred nudging me slyly with his elbow.

I, preoccupied with trying to forget the pain in my head, failed to realise at first exactly what his gesture meant, but it hit me (rather forcefully) as I looked up. And I mean literally. I let out a loud _oomph _as the cushion he'd thrown with such deadly accuracy smacked me in the face. I threw it to the floor as Wood stomped up and growled,

"_What do you think you were doing?"_

"Well gee, I don't know Wood," I replied. "Repaying you for the oh-so-lovely torture sessions you ordered at dawn for the past month?!" His face assumed a puzzled expression.

"I'm not talking about the Hollywood beach style makeover you gave me!" he practically snarled, ignoring the perfectly good reasons I'd just given him magnificently. "I'm talking about that stupid, _dangerous_ prank you pulled at the pitch!" His Scottish brogue was becoming thicker as he spoke. "I dinnae ken why ye'd do such a thing, ye _stupid _bairn!"

"Don't call me a child!" I yelled back. My forehead was pulsing with a vengeance. "If _you_ weren't so damn good at Keeping then I might not have to resort to drastic measures! Besides, you needed taking down a peg or two!"

"And I suppose ye thought you were the one for the job?" His voice was dangerously low. and I suddenly realised how close he was. His dark eyes were burning, and I felt a sudden flutter in my stomach.

"BOTTOMS UP!"

The twins, who were standing behind him, now upended an entire bucketful of levitated Quick-Grow Grass-seed onto his curly head. The charmed bright green seeds lodged in his tanned skin, quickly taking root to form a luscious furry coat of grass sprouting in clumps on his arms, hands, face and head. I stood there, stunned that it had worked. I was practically unaware of the twins' ecstatic pumping of my arms in congratulations. We'd been working on that formula for weeks, but for the first time in all our years of pranking, it had been mostly my work.

"BE-LLLL!" the green Wood before me roared.

"Someone get Madame Pomfrey!" a sixth year prefect commanded. A first year hastened to do so, scampering through the door with the air of a startled rabbit. I was already leaping for the girls' dormitories, knowing that if I got to the top of the stairs, I would be safe. My lungs felt like exploding as I reached the landing, looking down in time to see my furious Quidditch captain tumble down the newly formed slide.

"Weasleys and Bell: 1; Quidditch-obsessed seventh year - zilch!" I declared in a sing-song voice. Beneath furry green eyebrows, dark brown eyes glared resentfully at me. I realised only as the first of the ornaments shattered to the ground at my feet that although boys might not be able to pass, charmed vases were not included.

So I did the only sensible option left.

I ran.

* * *

AN: Ah, that was fun to write. Did you enjoy it? Yes? No? Would you please _review! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! _

Ok, think you've got it_._ I really do appreciate your opinions, but I can't even do that if you keep them to yourselves! So please do us a favour and press the button!

Thanks to all the reviewers from Chapter One! You're very much appreciated.

- Colour Me Stunned


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of J.K Rowling's world!

**Chapter Three**

Katie Bell placed a hand on her aching back and made to stand up.

"Get on with it! You're here for detention, not a party!" Filch snarled. Mrs Norris twined her wiry body around his skinny legs and shot a triumphant look at the Gryffindor. The tiny young woman glared at the cat, and then turned her gaze to the filthy caretaker.

"I've been at this for more than three hours," she said, an edge to her voice. "There's only a few left! Why can't I finish it off tomorrow?" Katie's silky blond hair hung in slightly damp strands around her face, and with a movement dulled by a long time on her knees, was pulled back to rest behind her ears. The girl darted a resentful glance at the long line of trophies which she hadn't finished, hating their murky shade compared to the dull bloom of the ones she had already polished.

"Because _tomorrow_ you'll be tending to the greenhouses. The windows are starting to get covered up by the creeping secantus, and Professor Sprout wants a volunteer to clear it." His gaze turned malicious. "Which is you, of course."

"Let me guess," Katie responded dully. "It's an extremely rare form of the vine which can't be cleared by magic." Filch's wicked grin was positively gleeful as he nodded, his greasy head bobbing up and down.

She could understand why Filch resented magic so much. It would have been so much easier for him to clean and take care of the school had he not been a Squib – a juicy morsel of information that she and the twins had discovered at the end of her first year. The memory of it still made her flinch a little, and her back ached in sympathy with the feeling.

It took her another hour and a half to finish scouring the taunting metal awards. It seemed that they flaunted the name _Oliver Wood _on golden plaques far more than was necessary for Quidditch records. Katie gritted her teeth whenever the irritating reminder of who caused her these detentions was scrubbed into view by her cloth and Scrubbs' Squeaky Squib Cleaner spray. _Let all your problems just melt away_, the cheerful, gaudy label announced. Katie was hard put to suppress the growing urge inside her to melt her Quidditch captain. Hah! Tell _that _to Scrubbs' Squeaky Squib Cleaner Company!

When the young Gryffindor finally staggered from the trophy room, it was to Filch's spiteful reminder to arrive at the same time tomorrow in front of the greenhouses. "Don't be late!" he snorted, but Katie barely registered it. Her head was pounding again. Why, oh why, hadn't she stayed for that single weekend? She couldn't go back to Madam Pomfrey now. The mediwitch had been diagnosed with black measles only a week prior, and her replacement for the time being was a grouchy younger woman whose stares could freeze.

_I'll take back every complaint I ever made about Madam Pomfrey's medicine_, Katie thought furiously, _if she'll just come back before my head explodes! _She had tried the headache potion, but to no avail. Her lessons were becoming too difficult to concentrate in because of the constant buzzing in her head – and when that started to escalate, all she wanted to do was curl up and cry.

_So why don't you just swallow your pride and go and see Madam Goober? _Angelina had asked, a puzzled expression in her eyes. The Chaser had been flummoxed by Katie's refusal to go to the hospital wing when they found her curled up in the girls' bathroom, wide-eyed. Alicia had given her a pointed look.

_Can't you possibly imagine? _she had asked terribly sweetly. _It might have something to do with the fact that our dear Quidditch captain is th-_

_Leesh!_ Katie's voice had been shrill, and the glare she sent her was enough to encourage her silence. _Can we not talk about this anymore? Please?_

_But Ange wasn't here. She's got to know, doofus! We're your best mates, _- and at the look Katie had shot at her, amended – _best __**girl **__mates, anyway. She has a right to know._ Angelina, whose face had been contorted in confusion as she tried to interpret their cryptic comments, suddenly burst out,

_What in Merlin's name are you on about?_

Katie had sighed - _Thanks, Alicia – _and then had found herself turning to Angelina, biting her lip. _Well, it sort of just… happened, I guess._

_Katie._

_Alright. Alright, I'll tell her._

**One Week Prior**

Katie stares mutinously at the clock. The saying about time never moving when you watch a clock hand seems to be true, because this dratted thing has been absolutely _crawling _so far. She's hanging out of the window; trying to get some fresh air because the day is so stifling, and she's also waiting for her eldest brother's familiar to arrive.

There's a sudden flurry of wings as a dead weight drops like a stone from the sky, its wings gracefully streaming behind it. Katie has had to lock her own familiar in a cage, which is a rare happening, simply for the reason that the two falcons do _not _get along. Kel, her brother's peregrine falcon, lands on the windowsill without so much as losing a feather, and glares haughtily at the young Gryffindor, who has backed up a little.

"C'mon, Kel," she coaxes, her hands stretched hesitantly out with palms up. Fred says that's the best way to calm a vicious animal, by showing you're not afraid. But frankly, Katie is forced to admit that it's a load of rubbish, because the stupid creature tries to take a chunk out of her fingers anyway, and the manner in which she does this is anything _but _loving.

Katie snaps. Whipping out her wand, she freezes the bird, capturing her ruffled feathers from flight in a silent tableau. It's the work of a moment to relieve the parchment from its position on the slender leg, and unfold it. Leanne looks up from her side of the dormitory.

"Is it from Sam?" she asks interestedly. Katie shakes her head.

"Nope, it's my eldest brother instead."

"Oh. Is that Landon or Benjamin?"

"'S Ben. Landon's the baby."

"Not a baby anymore, hun. He's gonna be coming to Hogwarts in a year or so, isn't he?"

Katie glances up from her letter, aghast. "Blimey, so he is. Silly kid. Why can't they stay small?" Leanne shrugs, and her friend looks down once more at the untidy scrawl, trying to untangle her brother's practically unreadable cursive. She purses her lips.

"I know what you're going to say, Kates, but don't. Yours is as messy as his is." Leanne's eyes are hooded with amusement. Katie sniffs, and ignores her. Her attention is now fully focussed on the letter, and she's suddenly very still.

… _Yeah, I know. Beth and I were in the district, so we took Mum up for the check-up. Bad news, impbrain, but the results aren't exactly positive. Positive, geddit? The mediwizards at Mungo's said she hasn't got blackfever or anything like that, so that's good…_

…_I just hope you haven't immobilised Kel again. It's no wonder you guys don't get on, seeing as you freeze her every time I give you a letter. Anyway, what's all this I hear from Beth's little sister about you in deep trouble? You've got some explaining to do, little sister…_

Katie springs up from her perch on the windowsill and scrabbles on her desk for a piece of parchment and a quill. Ink spatters everywhere as she digs it into the yellowy surface, the letters blurring and running together in her haste. But Ben will be able to read it. They've always been able to read each other's writing… eventually.

_Ben,_

_- you better tell me what the mediwizards __**did **__say about Mum. I'm not a kid anymore; I'm a big girl now. And no jokes about the height please – they're getting old. I can tell when you're not telling me everything. Don't think that just because Dad isn't here that you can decide what to tell me and what not to, or I swear that it'll be up to Sam and Landon to continue the family name. Name, not line, Ben. And I'm sorry if that upsets Beth._

_I'm not in deep trouble, exactly. Just played a trick on my Quidditch captain about a week ago (you remember Wood, right? Quidditch-obssessed, over-reactive, and an absolute prat) and now someone pulled another prank on him except it wasn't funny. I didn't even laugh, I just sorta smiled 'cause it was absolutely hilarious to think of him begging Madam Goober (she's the temp) for treatment – but only for a second. And then he thought that it was me who put the stinging hex on his broom combined with a sort of dye that turned his hands green again (you know, this person really knows their stuff, 'cause you couldn't tell there was a permanent dye on it at all. Invisible ink, do you reckon?) and McGonagall saw and I've been given detentions for the next three weeks. I didn't even do it!_

_Anyway, I want to find who set me up. And before you ask, no, it wasn't the twins. They wouldn't do something like that. We don't do harmful pranks. Strictly gags, that's all (unless it's someone who really deserves it, Ben, and I mean __**really **__deserves it)._

_Get back to me quickly, yeah?_

_Katie_

Her hand's aching, and her uniform's ruined with ink, but Katie wastes no time in going to her brother's still immobilised familiar and strapping the letter hurriedly to her leg. The moment Kel's freed from the spell she darts forward and chomps down hard on Katie's hand before ruffling her feathers indignantly and leaving through the window.

* * *

_And that's why you won't go to the Hospital Wing? _Angelina had asked, clearly unimpressed. _Because Oliver's there?_

_He humiliated me, _Katie had muttered. She had felt her jaw clench.

And now, here she was, staring at the door to the hospital wing in uncertainty and not a little anger, because her so-called _friend _had threatened to hex her to make her go if she wouldn't go after detention. Outside, the clock chimed the hour: 9:40pm. The mediwitch would still be awake and willing to take patients. Supposedly.

Swallowing her pride, Katie entered, struggling against the heavy weight of the wooden door as always, her blond hair cascading around her face as she staggered in. The room was hazy, and her head was _really _starting to hurt.

"Madam Goober?" She walked further in, a frown on her face as she tried to spot the young mediwitch. The woman bristled, looking up from her desk with a sharp look on her face. "My head-" Katie tried to explain, but Madam Goober cut her off.

"I don't treat students who have just injured another on purpose. Especially for something as trivial as a headache," she snapped. "Get out of my hospital wing!" Her glance to the other corner of the room, where Wood was currently sleeping, meant that her meaning was perfectly clear. Katie scowled. She had just come up here, swallowed her pride, and now this stupid woman was telling her that she wouldn't help.

"My – head – hurts," Katie ground out. The room was swimming. Since when had the pain become so bad?

"Go and get a headache potion from Professor Snape, then," the mediwitch said callously.

"Madam Pomfrey said-"

"Madam Pomfrey isn't here, _dear_. Now get out." Madam Goober actually started ushering her out.

"Bell?" Oliver's voice was slightly hoarse, but still simmering with anger and another emotion she couldn't identify. Was it worry? Katie tried to turn round, but it still wasn't viable. Her legs betrayed her as they shuddered once, and she sped towards the floor and blessed oblivion.

She didn't feel the reluctant arms that kept her from crashing to the carpet.


End file.
